So yesterday I was falling asleep at 7pm.... which is when I started writing.... so yesterday's blurp fails miserably.


Sunday January 3rd, 2010 “Have a desperate day”
The sirens blaring on every street was enough to make one deaf. They screamed a warning; they shrieked “/ESCAPE!/”
The streets were crowded as the hundreds of residents flocked to bridge. These were the citizens who were too poor to have left years ago. The people who had been left to die.

Alright, day two of my mighty prompt-a-day escapade.



So again, this is what I wrote down. I have not edited it at all.

Feedback is loved. Please don't be mean T^T I'm really insecure about my writing.


Saturday, Jan 2nd 2010 “Have a dumb Day”
Stupid, stupid, stupid. How was it that she felt so low within mere seconds of her family visiting? By just walking through the door, her parents along with their prized daughter made Lacey feel as though she’d been doing it wrong all this time. Her father, tall and lean from years of starving in the lab too caught up in his latest project to even oblige his body’s needs, shrugged off his white coat in one motion so swift Lacey didn’t have time to hold out a hand and instead was caught off guard as it was tossed at her.
“Oh come now, Lucile,” Her mother’s voice did nothing to hide disdain. “That coat can’t have been enough to knock you off balance.”
Lacey muttered something along the lines of ‘just surprised me’ as she gently placed the coat on a hook. She turned back, only to be smacked by her mother’s suit jacket.
/Amazing she found on big enough.../ She thought venomously. /Probably had it custom tailored./ Lacey’s mother was a very successful business woman, however with success had come the ability to eat what she wanted... so as her wallet grew fat, so did her waist. Lacey was lucky enough to have gotten her father’s weight genes, and at age twenty-one she was still a size 2.
After hanging the enormous coat, Lacey turned to her sister.
“Lucile, you’re looking well...” the tone her sister inflicted was one of sarcasm and disdain.
“I told you not to call me that,” Lacey attempted a kind tone, however she could not stop it from falling off her tongue like ice. Unlike Bethany, who adored her full name, Lacey hated hers.

Alrighty, so it is in fact a new year. And I have a new years resolution! *throws confetti* I am going to write at least a page a day... every day.

So, yesterday being the 1st, I wrote something, using my "Have a Day" Calendar as a prompt (as I will be for the next 364 days).

So, what I plan on doing with these: I will type them up EXACTLY as I wrote them. So do not judge too harshly, please, this is pretty much a first draft.

Then, I plan on looking at it later, or even the next day, and editing and such. And perhaps, in time, making them deviations.

Now..... I like to be optimistic and think that people who watch me might read these...... so....if you are reading this, please give me some feedback. My confidence in my own writing is... well it's long dead, burned, and buried by a past lover-- but! I plan on regaining that. So please, keep in mind that I am putting myself out by posting these.... be nice T^T





Friday, January 1st 2010
"Have a Reanimated Day"
The light was harsh, a fabricated illusion of the sun. Florescent? Yes. But it didn’t seem right. The man-made luminescence was all wrong. It angered me.
“Turn that fucking thing off....” My voice was raspy, as if my voice box had forgotten how to talk. The effort of forcing my throat to produce noise brought the realization of how dry my mouth was. The tickling sensation that followed my words made me cough, and although it began as a gentle clearing of the throat, I was soon doubled over in an effort to relieve the itching. And as I hacked and wheezed, dust filled the air, billowing from between the fingers I had clasped over my mouth.
“I’m sorry dear, what was that?”
It was only now, having been questioned, that I realized my request had been inaudible, sounding like sandpaper trying to make words.
“Light!” I rasped, but again my voice box failed to properly do its job.
“Here,” the voice seemed to come from my right, but suddenly there was a glass of water being shoved into my left hand. Without question nor a look to see who was around me, I guzzled the water.
My lips screamed in pain as I opened my mouth, cracking and bleeding. My mouth seemed to have forgotten what it was supposed to do with the liquid I dumped in. The cool water dribbled down my chin, and fell onto my chest.


((I do have a rather elaborate idea for this one, if you're at all interested, let me know))